Searching For Serendipity
by TheIrishPixie
Summary: Lukas Bondevik is a quiet young man who works at the local bookstore. Mathas Køhler is a loud young man who just can't find the perfect job. It seems that a boy named Peter has the ability to (unintentionally) bring these two polar opposites together. Could their chance meeting end the problems they have been facing, or perhaps make them much worse? AU DenNor/SuFin/UsUk/HongIce.


**You're very welcome to the story!**

 **Important Notes and Trigger Warnings:** **Pairings are DenNor, UsUk (Even if I like FrUk better) and HongIce. Other ships you might like will be included in the background. Don't like romance? Well for the most part I will be centering the story around the issues the characters face. So here are the trigger subjects: Alcohol Addictions, Bullying and Hints on Depression. I will, however, keep the story balanced between light and fluffy and serious with a dark tinge.**

 **A/N: Erland is Ladonia. I couldn't resist squeezing him in here. Oops! Also note age changes on some characters.**

 **(Disclaimer For The Story: I do not own Hetalia.)**

* * *

 ** _Our story begins in a little bookstore on the corner of the street. The place is painted lime-green, a deep contrast to the elegant white café that sits beside it. The shop's name is 'Kirkland's_** ** _Bookshop.'_**

At the counter Lukas lazily turned the pages of his latest book, the newest one in stock. Absorbing another exciting and daring adventure through words. Fortunately the shop was barren of customers in the early morning, which left the three young men to get the place up to standard. Or rather two of them. "You know you could do your job instead of slacking Lu," Vladimir chirped, reaching over the counter-top to hit the Norwegian lightly with the feather duster. He couldn't help but explode with laughter at his own actions. Lukas' long pale fingers plucked a rainbow feather from his hair and silenced him with an expressionless stare. "I'm sure you two can handle it," he quipped. Arthur snorted in the near distance. "I rather doubt that. Since Alfred started coming here it seems to be messier than ever."

Although he could be heard, Arthur could not be seen through the clutter. The building was cramped and styled in a charming, old fashioned manner. The limited space was decorated with antique wooden chests, cabinets and shelves that seemed to accumulate dust every minute. An array of historical items and heirlooms littered the interior. Old chipped paintings of rural and city scenery hung about the walls and rickety lights dangled from the low ceiling. An old, tea-colored globe sat to the left on a sculpted stand and an iron, Victorian coat hanger stood to the right beside the doorway. Books of all sizes were stashed in every nook and cranny possible and split into sections only the three of them could understand. The only thing that stood out of place was the colorful aisle of comic books that sat in the corner.

"It's your own fault for ordering the comics Arthur," Vlad called over his shoulder as he returned to dusting the old shelves. Lukas gave an unseen nod in agreement, a small smirk present on his face. "We needed the bloody customers! Half the town prefers the internet and since Lukas works here now he doesn't buy anything anymore." Lukas placed his bookmark on the text filled page and closed it over, effectively pausing the adventure between the pages. He stalked toward Vladimir before roughly grabbing the duster to do the job properly. "I never bought anything anyway." With a carefree shrug the Romanian retreated, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "That's what happens when a bookworm's best friend owns a bookshop. He was practically part of the furniture." A man with blonde unruly hair, pale skin and striking emerald eyes turned the corner, his amusement barely concealed. "That's why I decided to pay him for it."

Lukas responded with a sigh and an eye roll, but noticed a whirl of hay blonde hair passing the window. "Well he's come early today," he mumbled casting a glance toward Arthur. "I think he likes more than those comic books." The Englishman spun around to see for himself. Arthur's face turned a rather peculiar shade of red as he spluttered helplessly. "Don't be daft!"

Alfred arrived with a loud bang of the door and the chime of the shop's old silver bell. He sauntered into the place with his bright, flashy smile. Almost immediately the figure was drawn to the comic section, but Lukas noticed that every so often he would steal a glance in Arthur's direction. Lukas was rather confident that he was not being daft at all and the look on Vladimir's face suggested he knew too. Arthur had busied himself with checking the stock, but Alfred swiftly and smoothly, grabbed his attention by inquiring about a specific comic issue. Lukas leaned against the counter and re-opened his book, ignoring the inappropriate gestures being made by Vlad at Arthur's expense.

* * *

Mathias was looking for a job, honestly he was! There was just nothing out there. Why Berwald couldn't understand such a simple idea was a mystery to him. He had promised time and time again that he would move out and get his own place when he landed a position and Mathias always kept his promises...

Except for today, when he skipped the interview that Berwald set up for him. It wasn't his fault if the job didn't offer what he needed, right? Well it didn't matter, Mathias was sure that his younger brother would kill him for skipping anyway. Berwald really wanted him to move out and Mathias could understand that Ber wanted space to raise his family; yet Tino never seemed to mind and both Erland and Peter thought Mathias was fun.

At least that was his reasoning as he mindlessly channel surfed on Berwald's Ikea bought sofa. Outside, he heard the engine of a car stop, which usually meant Ber had brought his kids home from school. Mathias practiced his best confident-looking face, lying a little bit wouldn't mean much after all. The key turned and through the door walked Mathias' tall and stern younger brother, his sons Peter and Erland running in front. Berwald was in all senses a tower of a man with a bespectacled, stern face and icy, blue eyes that contrasted Mathias' warm ones. The two were opposites in looks and personality. Mathias was leaner and Berwald was stockier; Mathias was charismatic and Berwald was socially awkward. Peter on the other hand was a little package of infinite energy with a slightly round build and a more animated face.

And Erland? Well he looked a lot like Berwald did. Except the kid had tousled red hair instead of blonde and his expressions changed quite often. The boy also had a long scar that stretched across his pale face, but Mathias was vaguely sure that was paint. He was fourteen, two years older than his brother, but often tried Berwald's patience the most. Where Peter was more energetic and lively, Erland was more self-assured and controlling. At times the two did not get along, but Mathias assumed that was just a sibling thing. It wasn't as if he and Berwald were the best of friends all the time either.

Berwald placed Peter's bag down and looked the house over, "Where's Tino?" Mathias switched off the television and sat up straighter. "He went to Eduard's this morning." The tall Swede merely gave a nod and headed through to the modern dining area, starting Peter on his homework. Erland stayed long enough to give Mathias an odd look, before he vanished to his room. Mathias sat shocked, Berwald didn't even ask how his interview went. It should have been a relief, but the little attention irked him. Mathias furrowed a brow and followed Berwald to the dining room, "So about the interview I-" Berwald's glare stopped the words tumbling out. "You didn't go," he spoke in a lower voice to escape Peter's attention. The look in his icy, blue eyes held a disappointment that hit Mathias hard, it almost made him feel ashamed of himself. "What?"

Berwald huffed and repeated himself, "You didn't go. I called to check." Mathias never knew there was a sly bone in his brother's body, but there it was. Sure he hadn't shown up for a few interviews, but he never thought Berwald would actually check. At the end of the day he should trust him. He sent his brother a pleading look. "It wasn't right for me." Berwald shook his head and averted his gaze from his brother's. "'Nothing is right for you."

Mathias purposely ignored the truth in those words for his own sake. In the meantime Berwald busied himself with starting on the dinner. "Look, I just need to find the ideal job that I'll be happy with, alright?" He stood waiting for a reply, but it soon became clear he wasn't going to get one. He could feel anger building up in his stomach, his fist clenched at his side, but he decided to drop the issue until later. Instead, he sat himself beside Peter and ruffled his hair.

The spiky haired blonde peered over the child's shoulder. "What'cha up to?" The boy in question was coloring some obscure looking picture that he drew. Peter turned to him with lively, sparking, blue eyes, "We have to do a project for school!" Mathias chuckled at his enthusiasm taking the drawing as it was offered to him. "What is it about?" Peter gave him a small pout. "Can't you tell by the picture? It's about Vikings!" The Dane raised an eyebrow trying to pick Vikings out of the picture with no such luck. "Yeah... I see that now, sorry kid," with a smile he set the picture back down on the table. Mathias was silent, just watching as the shakily drawn lines vanished behind a rainbow of colors. He elbowed Peter lightly, a large grin on his face. "You know Ber and I have Viking heritage."

Peter's eyes widened as he looked from Mathias to Berwald. "Really?" From his place in the kitchen Berwald looked over toward the pair curiously. "Really! So you can ask us for help if you need it." Peter stuck his pencil into his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully until he reached a decision. "Okay, I need to be really good at this anyway. Wendy is working with me and she said she'd kill me if I messed up."

"Wendy, huh? Is she your girlfriend?" Mathias asked waggling his eyebrows at Peter teasingly. The child looked horrified at the notion and made gagging noises, "No! Uncle Mat she's just a gross girl." Mathias tried hard to hold in his laughter especially at the kid's telling blush. "Alright, alright kid, I was just teasing." Peter was not quite consoled by the apology if the pout on his face was something to go by, but he was easily distracted with his half-finished picture. Mathias eyed it wearily. "Maybe you should try printing off some pictures too?" The boy shook his head indignantly. "Nuh-uh. Wendy is doing her own pictures so I am too." Mathias held back a sigh, so Peter was as stubborn as his father and brother.

The rest of the evening was tense yet peaceful. No outright battles broke out like they often did, but even poor Tino had known that he had come home to a very tense situation.

* * *

It was growing late into the afternoon and Lukas had encountered the regulars in town. Kiku had shown up earlier after finishing the last issue of some Japanese manga and Ludwig had picked up yet another dating book. Lukas wondered when he would ask Feliciano out, it was getting a bit ridiculous by anyone's standards. Once you bought a book called 'Understanding Italians: Their Love Lives' you probably need to re-evaluate yourself.

Vladimir had excused himself earlier to pick his baby brother up from school. Lukas liked Andrei, he was cute and rather well behaved. Not only that but he idolized his big brother and dressed like him too. Both of them sported Gothic clothing, sharp, glinting fangs in their mouths and they both shared prominent blood red eyes. If only Emil still idolized him that way. Vladimir did not realize how lucky he was.

Arthur had taken a quick trip to the café next door for a cup of tea, as he usually did around this time. Lukas was not sure if he genuinely wanted a cup of tea or if it was an elaborate excuse to both annoy and tolerate Francis. Thinking more on the subject, he suspected that it was both. So he was left well and truly alone, but he was not bothered by it. Lukas was enjoying the peace that the silence brought, until it was killed by the familiar chime. He leisurely opened his eyes that he had closed at some point and drew his attention to a potential customer. He was both relived and annoyed to see that it was only Arthur. "Oh, it's just you." The Englishman raised a large brow and a displeased frown formed on his face. "Well hello to you too. I've just spent ten minutes with Francis and here I thought I was coming back to a better deal."

Lukas shrugged in response and pretended to be much more interested in the speck of dirt in his nail, despite the corners of his mouth twitching in amusement. "How is he?" Arthur laughed coldly, striding forward to lean against the counter. "As pleasant and appropriate as always." As he spoke his green gaze traveled the room and settled on the oak grandfather clock. "I suppose it will be time to close soon." He piped up again with a happier tone. Lukas checked the clock himself before nodding in agreement. "I guess so." The thought of returning home was secretly dreaded by the Norwegian. The silence he so loved was more than welcome anywhere but there, especially when a certain younger brother refused to speak to him. Unfortunately, Arthur, who was well trained at reading his mysterious friend picked up on his apprehension. "You don't seem too relieved."

Lukas broke their eye-contact, the grooves on the wooden counter-top had suddenly become as interesting as his dirty nail. Though who else was there to tell but Arthur? He was sure that his friend had picked up on the tension anyway. "Emil." Lukas felt a weight on his shoulder. Arthur placed a comforting hand there, not a very warm gesture, but a supportive one. "Is he okay?" Arthur had asked with genuine concern for Emil's safety. Lukas frowned, that was the same question that he had been asking himself for weeks. "I don't know. He doesn't tell me." Realization dawned on Arthur's face and despite the situation he laughed. Even Lukas' glare did nothing to stifle it. "Honestly! You're acting like he's dead. Teenagers will be teenagers. They're all moody, he's just at the age where he needs to find himself." Lukas mumbled in agreement. He knew that Arthur had experience, he had a teenage brother too, one that was in Emil's 'group'. Yet somehow the reassurance did not help at all, he was still worried, even if others saw it as an overreaction. Was he wrong to be so concerned?

He asked himself that same question again while standing in front of his apartment. Tucked into his arms was a brown bag of groceries he had picked up on his way home. Deciding that it would be best not to think about it much longer, he slipped a pale hand into his pocket and pulled out his key. When he opened the door he was greeted by emptiness. "Emil?" At a quick first glance it seemed that no one was there, not a single piece of furniture was out of place. It was only when his eyes landed on Emil's closed bedroom door with the familiar red warning sign that read 'Do Not Enter', did he know that his brother was home. As he drew nearer he could hear the music that drifted from inside there to the living room. Lukas dumped the grocery bag on the counter for now and edged toward the room. Drawing in a breath, he raised a hand to knock, but eventually the sign dissuaded him from doing so. If his brother didn't want to be bothered that was his decision. Besides, he reassured himself, Emil will talk when he's ready. At least he hoped he would.

* * *

 **A/N: So there's the introduction! Or the prologue if you wish to be technical. No, it isn't terribly eye catching is it? However, if you do wish to read more for whatever reason, the next chapter will take a short break from the lives of Mathias and Lukas and explore the life of Arthur Kirkland. (His siblings will make a very short cameo too). Basically, every so often I'll break from the main plot and give a chapter on the roles the background characters play in the AU.**

Also grocery/groceries is such a strange word. (My awful attempt at being more Americanized in my writing) In Ireland we call them messages.


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